


Shards of Glass

by JemTheKingOfSass



Series: Prompt-based MR oneshots [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, this series is all old fics being posted now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 10:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14211309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JemTheKingOfSass/pseuds/JemTheKingOfSass
Summary: Rin had a few pieces that his mother had passed on to him, half of his grandmother’s fine bone china place settings and crystal serving dishes, while Gou possessed the other half. Rin decided that Sundays were special, that their cooking lessons were deserving of fancy dishes used during the meal. Makoto loved that suggestion, though not quite feeling that he or his cooking was quite at the level of china and crystal. Rin insisted.





	Shards of Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Who needs feedback? Not me. I spent all morning sifting through old incompatible files and found another one. So, I like to think my writing is better these days than when I wrote these. *nervously shrugs* I honestly don't know.
> 
> As I quick skimmed and proofread this (very briefly, *sweats*), I decided to change a couple lines so that it makes sense chronologically with the other one.
> 
>  

 

 

Makoto hummed along to his music, buds firmly planted in his ears and the volume cranked up far too loud for the delicate ear drum. In his early twenties, he was still too young to consider the concept of permanent damage. That was something the elderly worried about after they asked their grandchild to repeat herself for the fourth time while she attempted to recount a tale from her high school theater performance last weekend during her visit for Golden Week. He swayed his hips in time to the music and bobbed his head, completely lost in the rhythm and movement of his body, feeling the music deep inside. 

 

Makoto was pleased he knew his way around Rin’s kitchen already. Rin had only moved in a short time ago but Makoto did not really cook. His nights without Rin, thankfully so far only limited to Rin’s travel schedule for swimming, were few and far between. When he was not being cooked for, he resorted to take-out or meeting up with work colleagues for a dinner out, much like he had since moving out of his childhood home years ago. He rarely did more in the kitchen than grab an apple or tangerine from the fruit bowl, when it came to sustenance. The two of them set aside a couple hours every Sunday, a day neither worked, for Rin to teach Makoto some kitchen basics, but it was still early days. The first thing Rin taught him was how to put together a simple broth with noodles for a quick ramen dish. They had moved on to scrambled eggs with diced meats and sautéed veggies the next week, and hamburger steak with fried potatoes the next. He was learning how to sear fish without scorching it, how to chop ingredients without cutting his fingers, and how to clean as he worked so the kitchen was not an unholy disaster when the meal was finished. 

 

That last step still evaded Makoto and it bothered Rin to be surrounded by a mess while they were eating. He knew his boyfriend liked things clean and tidy and that he was the main reason for the state of Rin’s kitchen on productive Sunday afternoons. So Makoto’s payment, though Rin had spluttered and argued when he phrased it _like that_ , was cleaning everything up, after they ate in a different room so no one had to see cooking detritus while they enjoyed the fruits of their labor. He now spent Sunday evenings after dinner contentedly tidying the kitchen. He wiped down counters and cabinets because homemade marinara stains, and scraped off grill pans because fallen bits of burned-on fish definitely cooked every time the heat was turned on. He emptied and loaded the dishwasher like he did in his own flat, and he hand-washed the fragile dishes exactly how Rin showed him. 

 

Rin had a few pieces that his mother had passed on to him, half of his grandmother’s fine bone china place settings and crystal serving dishes, while Gou possessed the other half. Rin decided that Sundays were special, that their cooking lessons were deserving of fancy dishes used during the meal. Makoto loved that suggestion, though not quite feeling that he or his cooking was quite at the level of china and crystal. Rin insisted. 

 

“This is meaningful, Makoto. Look at us, we’re turning ingredients into a meal that we're going to eat together. That’s important, that’s romantic. We need to set the stage for something this big,” Rin stated, when Makoto balked at the suggestion of using the nice dinnerware. 

 

Makoto carefully wiped the one over-sized serving platter that coordinated with the dishes. The large plates, salad plates, soup bowls, and coffee service were off-white with delicate silver edging and one bunch of gold and silver wheat stalks curling up the left side of the plate. The round serving platter he currently held was translucent glass, but with the same silver edging along the rim and the off-center bundle of wheat etched into it. He reverently clutched the plate in one hand while he softly smoothed the microfiber cloth across the surface with the other. Right before he turned to place the dish in the proper cabinet, two hands snaked around his waist and lips gently pressed to the back of his neck. 

 

“Ahhhhh!” He screamed, as his shoulders jumped and his fingers twitched and his eyes screwed shut. Makoto’s hands lost control for a _second_ , and he wrenched his eyes open just in time to watch the serving platter fall from his grasp. He tried valiantly to save it before it hit the ground, but with arms still embracing him from behind, all Makoto managed was to lunge at it and bat it right into the lower cabinet under the sink. The large plate flew viciously into the door and then smashed into the hard ceramic tile floor, where it shattered on contact. He felt the lips leave his neck and the hands release his waist.

 

Makoto spun around to see Rin stare at the floor in shock, tears already gathered along the base of his long eyelashes. “Rin. I’m so sorry, you surprised me, I-”

 

Rin stepped back, moved away from him, and stepped backwards blindly until he got to the kitchen doorway. “Makoto,” he breathed out before he bit his bottom lip in a fruitless attempt to stop it’s quivering. Makoto watched him move farther away, farther from him, and experienced the moment Rin’s eyes ripped away from the sparkling pieces on the floor to level an accusing crimson glare right at him. Rin did not look frustrated like when Haru refused to swim the relay in elementary school, or angry like when he returned to Japan their second year of high school. He did not even look lost, like a few weeks ago when he thought Makoto rejected him after reading his immature love letter written a decade prior. Rin looked distraught. 

 

Makoto walked towards him to stand by his side in the doorway, but Rin shook his head and recoiled. “No, Mako, I can’t right now. Just. Leave it though, I’ll clean it up later. Please, let me take care of it later?” He choked out the last few words as he all but ran to the entryway. Makoto heard the door open and close, with only a beat in between, when Rin must have carelessly shoved his feet into his beat-up running shoes. 

 

Helplessly, Makoto turned around to look at the kitchen. It was shiny and clean, as he had just finished putting the room to rights after their cooking lesson of the day and leisurely meal together, spent enjoying each other’s company. He had ruined it. He briefly entertained the notion that he had ruined _them_ but shook off that thought. If they could withstand years of mutual longing and missed messages and radio silence, they could fend off one broken serving dish. Granted, this set had been passed down through the Matsuoka clan for at least three generations, if not more, so he knew his partner felt the loss of familial history. He knew he would feel the same way if his mother ever bequeathed any of her family belongings on to him and he spoiled them. 

 

Worry niggled at the edge of his mind, something bigger was at play. Rin was forgiving and big-hearted, he waved off tiny mistakes as they came, never dwelt on minor infractions. He had suffered larger losses and pushed past deeper pains, enough that Makoto supposed Rin realized that it was not worth his time or energy to linger on petty thoughts or grudges. Makoto stopped staring at the remnants of the platter and sprinted to the entry way, where he slid on his shoes and went to find his partner.

 

**

 

After searching for an hour in the waning daylight, Makoto finally located Rin at the ocean, where he knelt in the sand away from the lapping waves on the shore. Feeling pleased he had introduced Rin to Kamakura Beach, someplace in Tokyo he could still connect to the water, overrode the concern for a moment before he remembered why he searched for his boyfriend in the first place. He approached Rin calmly, so as to not spook him, although he figured he merely projected his own scaredy-cat tendencies.

 

“Rin,” Makoto uttered quietly, as he sank down into the sand to kneel in front of Rin. “Talk to me. We haven’t avoided communicating since we _stopped_ avoiding communicating and started dating. Please.”

 

Rin raised his head to look at Makoto, who saw tear tracks staining his cheeks, though his beautiful garnet eyes were dry and clear. His fists remained clenched on his thighs and Makoto reached for them. They stayed closed, so he rested a hand softly on top of each one.

 

“It’s just a plate, right? Just a thing. It’s not a big deal. I keep telling myself that.” Rin exhaled a deep sigh before continuing. “But I saw it falling, and I couldn’t do anything to save it, and then it hit the floor and died. Now it’s just shards of glass, when just a second before it had still been something.”

 

Makoto worked his hands to slowly unclench the fists he was holding, to maneuver his fingers so they intertwined with Rin’s. He waited for him to continue talking, to work through what had happened back in his flat.

 

“My dad walked through the front door to go to work one day and he never came back. One minute he was there, the next he was gone. I watched my mom get the news and fall. She broke. Gou and I got the news, we fell and we broke. Do you know how long I felt like I was shards of glass, just like that platter is now? And every time I feel like I overcome some emotional grieving hurdle, something small or huge that connects me to my father in some way, there’s always something waiting to knock me back on my ass a little.” Rin leaned in and rested his forehead tenderly against Makoto’s, connected through the long moment of silence that followed. He felt his head move with Rin's when the other man took a steadying breath before he continued.

 

“Those dishes all remind me of times with my dad. We use my mom’s set when she hosts fancy meals for holidays or whatever. She hasn’t used these since he died. She waited until Gou and I were ready before she offered them to us. I wanted to be ready but this is how I react? I felt for a moment like I had lost him again, is that crazy?” 

 

“I don’t think there’s a right or a wrong way to grieve,” Makoto began, unsure where his words were headed but confident in his love for Rin to guide the way. “I’ve never lost a family member, but I do understand death in a way that is irrational and how it can make you feel rudderless. You’ve always felt things deeply, things move you Rin, it’s one of the most lovely things about you. Maybe it was just a plate to most people but to you it was a piece of your father, another part you’ve lost when you’ve already lost most of him. Rin I’m so sorry, we shouldn’t use them anymore. You shouldn’t have to keep feeling like you’re losing him over and over. I’m so sorry.”

 

Rin tightened the fingers clinging to Makoto’s. “No, they _are_ just dishes. I want to use them, I want _us_ to use them. When I was little, yes, we ate off them for special occasions and they remind me of my dad but those are all memories, Mako. I need new memories with them too. I want them to be special because they’re ours now. We’ll keep making them special. I’m making things weird. You have nothing to apologize for.”

 

“It’s not weird Rin, it’s not. _Death_ is weird. I still think of my old friend whenever I’m near the ocean. Every time. He’s been gone as long as your father and he was far less critical a figure to me than your father is to you. But I still think of him. I can’t help it. Just because someone passes on doesn’t make that person less a part of our existence.” Makoto pressed his forehead harder against Rin’s and let go of one of his hands to touch his palm against Rin’s chest, over his heart. “You hoped and assumed that platter was more permanent than your dad, that it could stay with you as long as you needed it.”

 

Makoto was balanced on a knife-edge between poignant and overwrought. “Your father will always be more than shards of glass. Maybe some of the memories when they hit you at the wrong time are like that, they cut you and make you feel pain. But in your heart, where it matters, he’s still whole and unbroken. He won’t shatter on the floor. He’s yours forever, Rin.” 

 

Hot hands grasped Makoto’s face as his chin was brought forward and Rin’s lips found his. He felt saltwater running down his face, carving new paths around their joined mouths, as tears dripped off his chin. He did not know whose tears were whose as Rin’s gratitude poured into him, and he breathed his love back into Rin, and they grounded each other in this moment. 

 

“Do you want to go back home now, Rin? I mean, maybe come back to my place tonight? That way you don’t have to think about any of this anymore right now. It’s not really home for you, but...” Makoto trailed off as his thoughts shifted course. All he could focus on was how he felt at this exact moment in time as he held Rin close, foreheads rested against each other, knees tangled together. _Tadaima_. He closed his eyes in contentment.

 

“ _Tadaima_ , Makoto. This is all I need, wherever we are.” Rin echoed his thoughts, like they had echoed each other’s sentiments in abandoned letters written years ago, only recently realizing they had been on the same lonesome page the entire time. What mattered was that they were together now, connected, still sharing the same thoughts and goals when it came to each other.

 

Makoto felt Rin's heartbeat pulse steadily under his palm. He reached up to take hold of one of Rin's hands and brought it down to rest over his own heart. He wanted, needed, Rin to feel the same life force that thrummed within him. He opened his eyes to find a fervent wine-colored gaze boring into him. " _Okaeri_ , Rin." 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This one feels a little unresolved at the end. I may come back and work on it a little, but I said I'd post them as I found them so it is what it is. XD This goes against all my neurotic tendencies, it's probably good for me!


End file.
